Family of Fire
by Discreetly
Summary: A story of Ursa, Ozai, Azula and Zuko before we knew them.
1. Chapter 1

The mother slouched against the cradle, rocking it with one hand and covering her mouth with the other as she yawned. Dark circles were drawn around her eyes and her muscles ached for rest, but despite her body's protests she remained awake and kept the cradle slowly swaying.

The ornate room filled with every need a baby might have - as well as a ridiculously fantastic cradle - was colored in a passionate crimson, but in the moonlight it remained dull. And before the woman's heavy eyes, it seemed to constantly blur.

The idea of rest, to simply let her eyes close and stop pushing the cradle back and forth in its hypnotic motions and finally sleep was her greatest temptation. She couldn't remember the last time she had a proper rest for if the cradle stopped for even a moment, the tiny child in it would immediately waken and let out an ear-splitting scream loud enough to keep the whole palace awake.

She didn't really have to do this, though. There were servants and maids, more than willing to see the rumored baby. They were more than eager to cast their envious eyes on her child and whisper excitedly amongst each other when the night was over. After all, when had they seen a child so vivid, so defined and so elegant even in its infancy? Despite all its needs and crying, it was truly a beautiful child.

But the woman had sworn to herself that she wouldn't let her children's earliest memories be of a servant holding their hand or singing them to sleep. She didn't want their lives to be empty of a caring mother and instead replaced with an eager noble.

Maybe she simply imagined the worst or maybe the lack of sleep had deprived her of reason, but the thought of her own children turning against her frightened her more than anything. That's why she couldn't leave her child now. Not when it depended on her so much to simply sleep. What kind of mother would she be then? What… sort of mother…

Her head drooped, her eyes closed and her body slumped against the cradle almost turning it over until another hand, larger and heavier than the woman's reached out and took hold of the cradle.

Immediately the woman jerked up and stared wildly at the sudden intruder.

"Hello Ursa."

"Ozai!" The woman looked up at her husband, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind. "I thought you were at the South Pole! When did you come back?"

The large man, still dressed in his finely-pressed uniform, only sighed in reply, "How's Zuko?"

"You should see him yourself." Ursa said with a note of temper as her husband avoided her question.

Again, Ozai ignored his wife and continued on, "How about Azula?"

Ursa sighed, giving up on getting a straight answer from the prince and answered wearily, "She's been crying all night. She'll only stop if I'm rocking her cradle."

"And are you the only one who can rock her cradle?"

"No…" Ursa bit her lip, "But I'm not going to give up my duties as a mother to anyone else. This is my job and my job alo-"

"I'll do it."

She stopped and the cradle slowed still. "But… but you never…"

"Please, Ursa."

The baby began to move in its crib, waving its hands in the air lazily as it stirred from its slumber.

"O-okay…" Ursa pursed her lips together as she tenderly let go of the cradle, looking hesitantly between her daughter and her husband, "Are you sure…"

"I can handle it, Ursa, don't worry." Ozai put a hand on the cradle and began to gently push it back into a rhythmic lull and the baby made the smallest of yawns before slipping back to sleep. "Get some rest, you look tired." Ozai added.

She blushed. She didn't dare imagine what she must look like, she hadn't slept for days and every waking moment was spent over her children. Nodding, defeated, she turned away and walked to her bedroom where sleep called for her.

Ozai gave his wife one last look before turning back to his daughter. "Azula…" He stopped rocking the cradle for a moment and reached down to scoop the child up into his thick arms. She was tiny, even for a baby, but her breath came in strong. It was a powerful breath, thick with passion and focus, as if the child was already trying to firebend. The prince smiled at the thought. "I really shouldn't have favorites." His arms moved back and forth like a cradle of its own as he whispered quietly, "And you're an awfully noisy baby. I've seen you've been keeping your mother up, probably driving her mad with your crying." He chuckled, "But honestly, you're too cute for me to hate." Ozai gave one last smile and placed the baby back into its crib and took his wife's place in tending to the baby. "But maybe, I'll tell you a secret, Azula. Why I'm back from the war front." He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a hushed voice, "We discovered something amazing, down south." Ozai closed his eyes, "It's not like anything I've ever seen in my life. It's… it's…" He laughed, "it's a rock! Just a rock smaller than my fist! But… it's not like a rock of the earth or anything like that." He paused, searching for the right words, "It's like… like when I went to the Forge once. When they begin melting steel, heating it so much that it loses all shape and turns into boiling molten liquid. It was like that. But… not. It wasn't liquid at all. It was definitely solid, as hard as any other metal I've felt. And hot!" He smiled, "So fiercely hot! It nearly scorched my hand off when I touched it." Ozai couldn't help, but grin. He had never been so happy that he would actually smile or grin or laugh for so long in only a few minutes, but that stone. That stone… it was so smooth, so hot. A perfect sphere of searing metal.

What was it? Something related to the Fire Nation, he was sure. Nothing could burn so hotly except for fire itself which was why he had taken it with him. Slipped it into his pocket and disobeyed orders to head out to the South Pole. He'd be reprimanded, his father would scold him, maybe even banish him, but that burning metal stone, pervaded his every thought and he knew he had to keep it safe.

He knew he couldn't let his father find it. No doubt he would take it and claim it for himself. Maybe he would fall into his father's favor, but the old man was so rooted in his "first-born" tradition that Ozai deeply doubted it. More likely, his father would just take the stone for himself, give Ozai some worthless medal or award and then proceed to forget about him completely.

He would die before he allowed that to happen.

Then there was a loud bang from the door, completely disregarding the awful time it was and the sleeping child inside.

"Prince Ozai, Firelord Azulon wishes to have a word with you."

Ozai cursed under his breath. How did his father even know that he was here? He must've grown more paranoid over the months. The Firelord had once dismissed his entire admiralty and executed them all, claiming that they were conspiring to overthrow him. As for Ozai, there was no doubt in his mind that he was being constantly watched under his father's orders.

"Prince Ozai," The door opened, its handle and lock completely melted and a trio of soldiers entered, "I apologize for your door. But this is an urgent matter. Firelord Azulon has requested your immediate presence."

"You dare enter my daughter's room without my permission?" He glared at them, still rocking the cradle with one hand, the other clenched in a fist.

The soldier didn't even look at the Prince, staring straight ahead as he replied, "Again, I apologize Prince Ozai. But Firelord Azulon demands it."

He knew what his father would do now. He had nearly committed treason and he would have to pay the price. But before that, his father would have him searched and the seething silver orb in his pocket would definitely be found.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Alright, fine. I know what this is about. Just give me a moment with my daughter."

The soldier looked to his compatriots for a moment, then turned back to Ozai and with an almost sympathetic look on his face, nodded.

With one hand he scooped up his daughter and with the other, he took the orb from his pocket. It wasn't hot, though. No longer burning as it had days before. Perhaps it sensed the danger, Ozai didn't know, all he knew was that he had to hide it without any of the soldiers noticing. He couldn't move over to any piece of furniture without being seen and they weren't exactly stupid enough to be fooled by some sleazy trick.

The only place he could put it was with his own child. Azula. The stone wasn't searing hot anymore, in fact it was almost soothingly chilling, but still, Ozai couldn't help but be filled with the thought of his daughter being burned alive.

"I'm sorry, Prince Ozai, we must be going now."

Ozai swallowed. "I understand." He set his baby down into the crib, dropping the stone beneath the covers alongside her before standing back up resolutely. "Lets go."

Immediately the soldiers moved so that there was one on either side of him and one in front. It was a typical formation for any VIP and his bodyguards, but it wasn't the prince who was leading them and Ozai knew it. Casting one last glance at his daughter, he followed the soldiers to face his father's scorn.

As soon as they left though, the baby stirred in its sleep, unconsciously knowing that its cradle was no longer moving. It squirmed for a moment, preparing to fill the palace with its deathly screams when the silver sphere glowed crimson. There wasn't a speck of heat pulsing from it and the baby still had its eyes shut, but when the orb reddened, the child slowly relaxed. Calmly falling back into place and without either parent doting over her, Azula fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hmm… punishment… punishment…" The Firelord sitting in his ruby throne, shrouded by flames looked down on the man kneeling before him, "Tell me my son, what would be a fitting punishment for a treasonous, deserting, coward?" 

Ozai kept his head bowed, not moving as calmly replied, "Do what you must, Firelord Azulon."

"What I must do?" His lips curled into a mocking sneer, "I can't decide, Ozai, I'm very conflicted about this matter. This despicable coward happens to be someone very close to me and I'm unsure as to how to proceed. Perhaps you can provide me some ideas, my son, after all if you ever hope to be Firelord, you must learn what to do with these pathetic fools. So tell me, if you were in my position what would you do with this criminal?"

"Well, the obvious choice would be to execute him," Ozai licked his lips, carefully choosing his words, "But since he is of such close relation to you, why not give him a chance of survival as well as give his punishment a use to you."

Azulon raised an eyebrow, the sneer gone from his face, "Such as?"

"If the rumors are true, than this criminal fled from battle at the South Pole, correct?"

The Firelord scowled, "Yes."

"So why not give him a chance to truly redeem himself?" Ozai smiled and looked up at his father, "Why not send him to the South Pole again so that he may reclaim his honor?"

Azulon met his son's eager eyes and frowned as he let the boy's idea mull over in his mind. Then slowly moving his lips, so that each word was carefully pronounced, the old man spoke, "Yes, very good my son. An idea fitting of a Firelord…" He smirked, "But I see you are still young in your years, Ozai. You are too forgiving. That would simply place him back where he should be with no actual punishment… but I like your idea, it seems very fitting. So how about this, I will send this criminal back to the battlefield and forgive his crimes, but just as he abandoned his forces, this time his forces will abandon him and he will have to enter battle alone." The Firelord smiled, "Is that not a poetic and fitting punishment for such a disgusting traitor, Ozai?"

The prince scowled, but bent his head before his father could see it, "Yes, Firelord Azulon."

"Very good, at the very least you seem to understand what it takes to be a Firelord." Azulon seemed on the verge of laughter as he spoke, "Maybe when you return from the South Pole, I'll make you my successor."

Ozai glared at his father realizing that the old man never had any intention of sparing him any sort of mercy. His father fully intended for him to die. This was just a game to the wrinkled fart. Grimacing, Ozai looked back up to his father and nodded, "Then I'll be sure to return."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." Then the Firelord could not restrain himself any longer and he burst into a wild fit of laughter. Nearly falling over as he cackled hysterically, he waved his son away, eager to see him gone from his sight for the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

It was still dark when Ozai returned. And Azula was still asleep, though it seemed like the girl had taken a liking to the silver orb, latching onto it even as she dozed off. Ozai couldn't help but smile, she was safe and better than that it seemed like she had finally learned to sleep without someone hovering over her. 

The stone however, he couldn't leave there. It had left too many questions stirring inside of him. So careful not to wake her up, the prince pried his daughter's hands from the rock and took it. Then, making each step as silent as possible, Ozai left the room and waited for the sun to rise.

Ursa looked at her husband quietly staring out the window, standing so still he didn't even seem to be breathing. She had found him like that when she woke up, perfectly framed in the orange glow of the sun and she knew better than to approach him. He had always been like that. He could never talk to people when he was afraid. He was always more content to close himself off from the rest of the world and just think.

She never asked him what he was thinking about and she never tried to cheer him up. Ozai wasn't that sort of man and he had been just the same on his first tour of duty. He didn't want to be bothered when he was steeling himself for the mission ahead and he didn't want to have someone constantly worrying about him. He said it was just something he couldn't deal with, something that would just be too distracting.

So Ursa hid her emotions. She tried to proceed like it was an ordinary day as if her husband had simply returned home from the war front and she was incredibly happy. She didn't want to think about what had happened to make him so afraid. She didn't know and she didn't want to know.

All she knew was that for today, she was going to make everything perfect.

She woke up Zuko first, carrying the little three year-old from his bed to the dining room where rice, beef and eggs had already been lain out by the servants. Then she took Azula from her crib and placed her in the high-chair next to Zuko before finally sitting down herself.

Zuko and Azula were both still half-asleep, their little heads lolling against their chests and Ursa managed to crack a smile, looking at them.

The children woke with a start though as soon as their father stepped into the room as if his very presence was a jolt through their spines. They both sat up straighter and even Azula seemed to know that this was a man who required your immediate attention.

Ozai stared at them all pointedly, "You're all up?"

Ursa looked at her husband, smiling brightly, "They were eager to see you home."

The prince looked at his wife and understood at once. "How lucky," Ozai moved to the table and took his seat, "We finally have a chance to eat together."

"Yes, we do."

There was a moment of silence as the family ate their breakfast, only interrupted by the clattering of chopsticks and spoons. Then after a moment's hesitation, Ursa spoke.

"So what will you be doing today?"

Ozai looked up from his bowl, not the slightest bit of emotion on his face as he replied, "I'll have to return to the battlefield in a few hours. Father has high hopes for me."

Ursa bit her lip, "I see."

"Don't worry," Ozai resumed eating, "I won't die."


	4. Chapter 4

It was a dot in the ocean, black on blue, dwarfed by glaciers and icebergs on all sides. Jagged in shape with pointed metal jutting out in front and sleek steel sides that nudged aside the drifting ice and snow, it was a feat of science and fire. A Fire Nation ship, a vessel meant to be manned by a crew of at least five, this ship however, only had one man on board. 

Ozai wasn't a stupid man.

He hadn't come out here without a reason. He knew that his father didn't expect him to live. He knew that at this point, a single ship and a single man would never be enough to take on an entire base here in the South Pole. The original fleet that he had been sent out with had numbered from twenty to thirty ships with more than 3,000 soldiers. They hadn't had any tanks or cavalry with them. Just 3,000 soldiers armed with swords and pikes.

They were a minor fleet, insignificant in the grand scale of war and their only task was the destruction of an equally insignificant, equally unimportant fortification in the South Pole.

The people there had nothing to defend. The Water Tribes were just an annoying pest that had to be taken care of. They had nothing the Fire Nation wanted. Just snow and ice.

But the stupid people there loved their stupid little home. They loved their stupid piles of snow and pathetic little houses of packed snow and they adored their flimsy little towns of snow and decided that they needed something to protect all that stupid insignificant snow.

They needed a stupid, pitiful little fort of snow, complete with fragile snow towers and comical snow walls.

It was stupid. They were stupid.

But they had amassed a sizeable force, an army of nearly all the men in a thousand-mile radius, 2,000 soldiers and only enough "boats" (which is what they called them, but as far as Ozai was concerned they were just dead animal carcasses turned over in the water) to haul a quarter of that number. Then they gathered all their hunting tools and called them weapons. Bones from dead animals, stones and the occasional piece of metal, but of course, it was futile and endlessly moronic.

There weren't even that many benders in the South Pole, just a feeble ragtag army of men-too-old and men-too-young

And they thought that they could defend their worthless piles of snows and frozen water.

So of course, some sadistic soul in the admiralty saw fit to crush these wannabe-soldier's and ordered a force of 3,000 Fire Nation soldiers to slaughter whatever foolish snow-tossing idiots they may come across.

It was a pointless mission. Nothing to take or conquer, the only thing to do in this artic wasteland was kill and die. Neither of their lives mattered, Fire Nation or Water Tribe. It was a battle between hopeless armies and it was why Ozai had been assigned to this mission while his brother was in the Earth Kingdom commanding real armies and fighting real battles.

But now here he was, alone with a ship that he couldn't properly operate.

And as inept as they were, 3,000 against one were not odds Ozai was interested in.

It didn't take long for Ozai to spot the fort of ice and snow. It was meant to protect all the villages in the South Pole so of course it was built at the very front, situated on top of two giant glaciers. The two behemoths of ice were the size of mountains and they stretched as far as the eye could see.

Entering the South Pole would mean passing through the thin valley of water between those two hulking glaciers.

Placing a base there on top of it all was probably the only smart thing the Water Tribe had ever done.

And with a fort so high up, if Ozai could see them than they could definitely see him.

Immediately, the prince went to the ship's helm and without a moment's hesitation turned the boat around.

He wasn't running, but he didn't plan on charging straight into his death. The Water Tribe would probably think he was a scout for a much larger army and they'd probably be up at arms at the moment, fully prepared for some epic battle that was never coming.

He'd let them wait a while like that. Ozai smiled as he steered his burly iron ship behind an iceberg and out of sight. Then when those "soldiers" much-too-young and much-too-old were all tired and weary, he'd begin.

But for now he just had to wait. At least until the sun set.


	5. Chapter 5

Ozai was unused to a silent ship. There would always be crewmen rushing about or making noise, machines to tend and fix and care for. The instruments had to be carefully manned and checked periodically in order to ensure their vitality. Like the devices they worked on, a ship and its crew worked like a well-oiled machine. 

But alone, watching the sun set on the bridge, Ozai sat uncomfortable. Even the low rumble of the engine was gone and he was left with only the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the sides of his ship.

Then there was a clang, a sound of metal against metal and Ozai jumped out of his seat, his arms raised into a fighting stance.

He waited like that, his eyes closed, straining his ears for any more details of a possible intruder. But there was nothing. Just the steady flow of water.

He opened his eyes.

There was a person standing in the doorway, a dark-skinned woman, dressed in the blue coats of the water tribe, her feet wrapped in soft boots made of animal skin and strapped to her back, a pouch of water. She looked like she had just entered the bridge because she seemed as surprised as Ozai did.

"D-don't move!" The woman cried, her hand on her pouch, but Ozai was already leaping forward, punching the air to launch a thick fireball. The woman yelled in surprise and threw her hands up, barely blocking the fire with a whirlpool of water and she stumbled back just as Ozai took another step and attacked again. The woman was knocked clear back against the wall and the Prince stood over her, his fist aimed at her head.

He looked at her, her face still caught in shock and he scowled, "Is there anyone else on my ship?"

There was a sound behind him and a voice spoke, "Her husband."

Ozai whipped around, just in time to see a dark-skinned man strike him across the head with a club.

* * *

"What do we do with him?"

"What do you mean what do we do with him? He tried to kill you! It's only fair that we return the favor."

"We can't do that, he's unconscious!"

"That doesn't mean anything. This is a war, we're fighting."

"It's not right."

"So what, then?"

"He's alone right? Don't you think that's strange? Maybe he's a messenger from the Fire Nation!"

"What would they want to talk about?"

"We'll ask him."

"Are you forgetting that he attacked you?"

"Well he IS from the Fire Nation…"

"…"

"What?"

"Fine, we'll bring him back."

"Good! Oh wait, looks like he's starting to wake up…"

"Hmm… no, I think we'll keep him unconscious till we get back to our base."

"Wait. What do you mean… wait n-"


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing to wake Ozai up was the smell. 

Rancid. Putrid. Something rotten. Rotten meat.

He opened his eyes and saw the cause of it immediately. Hanging in the air, its haunches frozen to the snow roof, a dead animal swung gently. As for what kind, Ozai had no idea. It was large, flabby with fat and rubber skin. Typical Water Tribe.

"Awake, I see."

Ozai looked to the side and grit his teeth, "You."

"What, is the Firebender gonna hurt me for hitting him?" the dark-skinned man smiled, sporting in one hand the same club that had knocked Ozai out before, "We're not stupid y'know. We know well enough to keep our prisoners in check."

The Fire Prince glared at the gloating peasant before staring up at his arms, frozen to the roof just the same as the rotting animal. Ozai closed his eyes, biting his lip, "At least get rid of this _thing_," He said with a nod to the carcass.

"No…" the young man smiled again, clearly enjoying the situation, "I think it'll keep you under control while I go check up on my wife. I think you might've bruised her." He laughed, stepped out of the igloo, leaving the prince to hang by his arms while he suffocated in the strange animal's rotten stench.

* * *

"So let's talk Fire Nation man."

"…"

"Do you want to talk?"

"…"

"Would you rather have me bring back the stinky dead animal?"

"… What do you want?"

"Who are you?"

"..."

"Hello? Stinky dead animal? It's just outside, I can bring it back anytime."

"I'm to deliver a message from Firelord Azulon directly to your commander."

"Alright tell me then."

"You're not the commander."

"What makes you think that?"

"It's just obvious."

"Well, it doesn't matter, I'm sure your Firelord wouldn't mind if this message of his skipped a few stupid rules."

"The Firelord's commands are absolute."

"… Really, now… that's troublesome… very troublesome."

"I don't see how."

"Well, we're not stupid. You could be an assassin who just wants to get in the room alone with our leader. You are Fire Nation, I wouldn't put it below you."

"Don't flatter yourself, you idiot, you think the Fire Nation even cares in the least about your rock of ice? This place is worthless and killing you would be a waste of time."

"So why are you here?"

"Only for the commander of this base to know. But you're smart. You'll figure it out."

"…"

"Well?"

"Yes, alright, we'll let you talk a bit. Just don't do anything stupid or we'll wrap you in rancid carcasses."

* * *

Ozai heard the old man before he saw him. Wheezing as he breathed in and rasping as he breathed out. Ozai would occasionally hear the old man's grating voice like waves crashing against the rocks, calling out to a soldier or a person, giving them orders to keep them busy or just trying to make himself look important. His voice was fierce, each word pronounced with the most guttural sound, but his voice was always low. He didn't need to shout or yell and Ozai didn't think he could even if he wanted to, but his little defense force seemed to move at his every beck and call, no matter how stupid it sounded from Ozai's position.

Finally, though, after a whole morning of hearing him shuffle around the hut, the old man stepped inside the little prison igloo.

And Ozai immediately understood why his voice was so raspy. Nearly his entire body had been burnt, half his skull was charred black and no doubt ash and flakes of fire had gone down his throat and poisoned his lungs. No wonder these wannabe soldiers were so eager to follow this man's orders. By the glint of his eye and the dominating scars marking his body, the old man, despite his grey hair and stooped back, gave off the most fearsome impression of a battle-hardened veteran of war.

"So you're the commander of this little snowfort?" Ozai said, staring down at the hunched old man

The scarred veteran stared back, his face plain of emotion as he replied, "Yes."

The prince nodded, "I believe you."

"And I hear that you won't tell anyone, but me the message."

"It was the Firelord's orders."

The crippled commander gave a twisted smile, "What a good soldier you are."

"The Fire Nation only has one kind."

The old man's smile vanished and he snarled, "Deliver the message then, what do you want?"

"Peace. A truce." The old man's eyes widened and Ozai laughed to himself as he continued on, "I've said this to one of your soldiers before, but the South Pole has nothing we want. Your people may be able to make a happy home here, but for us, it's worthless. There's no land to cultivate and grow crops, there's no raw materials or resources to use and no tactical geographical advantage of conquering this place. It's just snow and ice."

"And am I supposed to believe," the old man growled suddenly, his eyes narrowed again, "that because we have nothing, you'll never attack us?" He snorted loudly, "I think we both know that's not true. I'm certainly proof of that."

"Don't be bitter, you geezer, I know my history." Despite his restraints, Ozai leaned forward and returned the commander's glare, "The Fire Nation, twenty years ago thought you'd be easy to mop up and they sent in only a few ships to dispose of nearly a hundred tribes. But the people here banded together and fought them off." He leaned back, calmly studying the tattered burns across the old man's face, "I suppose you were one of them."

"Very observant, you brat, but I'm no closer to believing you than before."

The prince rolled his eyes, "We don't want to have to fight you. The cost of ships, lives and materials would simply be too much for a reward of nothing. The only possible thing we can get is the comforting thought that we no longer have to worry about any surprise attacks from the south border." Ozai smiled at the burnt old man, mocking him almost as he spoke, "But again, we don't want to have to waste our resources on such a desolate place like this. So we'll opt for the simpler route, one that will cost us absolutely nothing. Peace. A truce."

"I refuse. And I can't believe I wasted my time talking to you." The commander turned and began to teeter away, grimacing as if he had just stepped into something dirty.

Ozai laughed and called out, "You know, that if I'm not back in a week with the answer they want, they'll pause their war with the Earth Kingdom and send in a fleet to slaughter your little base."

The old man stopped.

"From what I understand you've gathered nearly everyone and anyone who can fight, haven't you? But you know as well as I do, that it's not nearly enough to stop a full-scale invasion. Even a partial siege would be more than enough to topple your defenses." Ozai smiled, "You've had the luxury of never _truly_ being under attack by us. We were always busy with some other country, more powerful and more dangerous. The Air Nomads and Earth Kingdom, but the Water Tribe? What great claim to war do you have? Especially compared to the Fire Nation when we practically invented the damn thing."

The hardened officer turned back, his black charred eye the only thing that Ozai saw as the old man spoke, "How long have you been gone?"

"Four days, I think." Ozai smirked, he had him. The old man had fallen for his bluff completely. He'd release him immediately in the hope that he'd get back to the Fire Nation and deliver their message of peace. But as soon as that geezer let down his guard and got rid of the ice on his hands, Ozai would find it fairly appropriate to wrap them around the old fart's throat and burn away what was left of his voice.

The old man nodded, then looked away again as he said, "Then we'll have to prepare ourselves for battle in three."

The prince's smirk disappeared and the old man hobbled out of the prison.


	7. Chapter 7

"Would you believe it?" 

Ozai looked up.

The Water Tribe man walked up to him, dragging a carcass behind him. "Would you believe how easy it is for some people to lie to another?"

He couldn't see very well, his eye was swelling and the only way he knew who was talking was by the annoying attitude of the man who had captured him.

"That's the problem with Fire Nation," He hung the dead animal up to the ceiling, so close to Ozai he could hear the flies buzzing, "You can never trust what they say. They're born liars. Evil to the core. All that."

The prince grumbled, it was hard to talk, his lips were cut.

"Y'know… I'd ask you who you actually are if I thought you'd tell the truth." The Water Tribe man laughed, "But I think we all know how'd that go."

"Hey…" Ozai whispered, his voice nearly as hoarse as the old man's.

"What do you want?"

"Hey…" The prince swallowed, completely unrecognizable as he spoke, "What's your name?"

The Water Tribe man stepped closer till Ozai could feel his breath. "You want to know my name?"

He nodded.

"It's Hakoda. Why do you ask?"

"I… I just wanted…" Ozai gritted his teeth, trying to speak louder than a whisper and failing, "Just wanted to tell you something important, Hakoda…"

He leaned in closer, "What?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Hakoda stepped back and even through his blurry eyes, Ozai could see the Water Tribe man staring at him. He was crossing his arms, biting his lip and staring so intently at Ozai, not worrying about the threat or even angry at it. Finally he spoke, his face plain of emotion, "Go ahead and try."

Then he left, not even looking back and the only thing Ozai could hear anymore was the sound of ice melting and freezing and a thousand million flies buzzing around the dead animal in front of him.

* * *

Hanging by his arms in the coldest place on the planet with a rotten dead animal swaying in front of him, it was hard for Ozai to ever find time to sleep. 

So when he woke up in the middle of night, he was ready to kick or bite anyone stupid enough to want to bother him now of all times. He could only hope that the beating afterwards kept him unconscious for the rest of the night.

But tonight he was kicking, rocking his head and flailing for a full minute before he realized that there wasn't anyone there. Normally it'd be too dark for him to ever know that for sure, tonight in that dark prison was an eerie white glow and as he looked further down, Ozai realized it was coming from him. In fact, he could feel it against his thigh, a warm heat, completely unheard of in this arctic hell. And its light intensified, growing brighter and brighter even through the fabric of his tattered uniform and the dense darkness.

In that cramped room of his, that blocked the moon and stars, light began to swallow up the darkness, smudging every detail until it was one long streak of white. Then, that was all he could see.

Nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun felt good against his face. The light rejuvenated him and he felt his skin, pale from the weeks of confinement slowly tan back to their healthy color. Ozai couldn't help but smile, he was outside again and it felt good to actually be standing, his muscles surprisingly strong despite having been strung up for so long. The air was fresh and crisp, almost comforting despite the biting cold and blessed relief from the buzzing of flies made the tortured prince swell with emotions. It was as the silent as the wind, most of the fortress still sleeping and Ozai soaked in it.

Then he noticed how pleasantly warm it was and how bright the world seemed, even in the morning. He looked at his hands and saw them streaming with fire and as his eyes moved down his arm to his chest, he realized his entire body was pouring fire until he was one giant walking bonfire.

He wasn't alone in witnessing this marvel though, there was one sentry, given the boring duty of morning watch, to witness the sudden event of an igloo evaporating and an entity of pure, unhindered flame standing in its wake. And the poor fellow, just barely out of his teens, watched as frozen as the ground he stood on. Then he leapt up, fingers trembling as he grasped at a bone and banged it against a turtle shell, filling the sleepy fort with noise.

It only took a moment before warriors leapt from their tents, most of them only half-dressed, but holding clubs and knives grafted from bone, but at the sight of the roaring human-shaped fire they stopped dead. They had no idea what it was, much less what to do with it, so for a moment they turned their heads quizzically at one another, searching hopefully for their leader.

Before anyone could even say anything though, a stream of flames appeared in place of what used to be a barracks and its inhabitants. Shock stunned the soldiers for half second then they leapt to retaliate, throwing misshapen boomerangs and charging forward with whatever weapon they could hold.

But the boomerangs disintegrated into ash before they ever reached their target and the attackers who ran forward stumbled from the complete lack of oxygen surrounding the flaming god. They lay on the ground, choking as they tried to crawl back to safety. He was like a forest fire, devouring everything around him, even the air. He was beginning to sink into the iceberg as well, already having melted ice that had been frozen for a million years, but he calmly took a step forward and righted his footing and launched a fireball at each of his fallen attackers, none of whom were at all fit to escape its fiery destruction.

The remaining soldiers tried to flee, but it only took a few simple gestures from the prince's hand till the flames spread across the icy floor like a wall and cut them off, closing them into a cage which he was the sole master of. He had to give them credit though, they only panicked for a moment. They quickly regrouped and some of the Water Tribe turned to face him, while the others frantically tried to shovel snow onto the flame. And Ozai couldn't help, but smile, it was enough to laugh.

But they were resilient. Persistent and hopeful, still. And the ones who turned to face him, moved their bodies calmly and slowly, almost in a ritualistic dance despite the roaring flames surrounding them and in practiced motions they sprung all at once, upturning the iceberg for just a moment as they pulled a chunk of it out and shot it at Ozai.

He responded in kind, taking a deep breath as he stepped forward and with both arms, launched a fireball of his own.

The two attacks met in midair, the ball of flames enveloped the giant icicle, withering it down as they passed through one another, but it still remained as it erupted from the end of the fireball and hurtled forward at the Fire prince. It made him frown, but he only stepped forward again and this time kicked the rock of ice as it came to him so that it disappeared in the sky shattered to a million pieces.

The remaining few of the Water Tribe were not so fortunate as the ball of fire raged toward them and they desperately moved again, this time in rushed, uncoordinated motions that lent only a thin wall of ice before it and they were swallowed in a whirlpool of fire, burned to a cinder.

Finally, the fortress was as silent as it had been at sunrise and Ozai felt the flames around him fade until he was left alone, his uniform more ragged than ever, but intact. Every tent or ice building, every soul or being in this little hovel of a fort was gone from this world forever and Ozai basked in the comforting silence it offered.

Until he heard something so faint, for a moment he thought he imagined it. But it continued, growing louder until it was unmistakable. Short, heavy sobs, uncontrollably wet with every shuddering breath.

Ozai frowned, straining his eyes against the charred ruins for the survivors and saw them, right where those fleeing few had tried to kill him. He was surprised he hadn't saw them sooner, but the woman who was crying was charred black, almost camouflaged to the ash and soot that now littered the fort. She must have dropped to the floor and turned her back against the flames, but even from where he stood, Ozai could see the tender muscle that had been seared along the woman's spine. It would have made anyone cry.

As he crept closer though, curiosity overtaking him, he realized that there was another as well. A man. The woman must've shielded him from the attack because he was nearly unscathed, unconscious, but not even the slightest bit burned.

The prince moved forward, his feet crunching against splintered ice and the woman shakily turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were half-open, streaming wet, barely recognizing him and after a moment to meet her eyes, Ozai drew closer. She followed his movements, her head drooping for a moment before snapping back up to watch him until he was standing directly over her.

"H-h-h-help…" She mumbled then turned her head down at the man, "h-him… H-h-help him…"

Ozai stared at her, silent as she continued to babble. He stood there, knowing that she was dying, knowing that there was nothing he or anyone in the world could do to save her. It took time, but not that much before she shut her mouth, closed her eyes and died. Ozai watched her unmoving until her final breath, letting the silence swallow him for one more brief moment before removing her from the untouched man and laying her to rest beside him.

He stared down at the widower and whispered to no one in particular, "The next time we meet, I'll keep my word."

* * *

When Ozai came back home, he shrugged aside all the perplexed guards, shocked dignitaries, bumbling nobles and politicians and headed straight for his family. His clothes were tattered and torn, his body flecked with every sort of filth imaginable and when he kicked open the door to his home, his wife and children stared at him as if he were a ghost, half-expecting him to drop dead right there in their living room. He didn't. He hugged every one of them. Even Zuko._AN: Finally done with stupid Ozai's adventure or whatever it is. Time to bring everyone else back into the story. Yaaay!_  



	9. Chapter 9

"So…" Firelord Azulon twisted his beard as he stared down at his son, "You're alive." It was a statement, not an exclamation or a question. Just an emotionless response.

Ozai smiled politely, watching his father squirm in his throne, "It would appear so, Firelord."

"Yes," The old father frowned and repeated, "It would appear so."

"Pardon, but you don't seem entirely happy, Firelord." It took all his willpower not to straight-out mock and humiliate the old man, but Ozai only smiled, "Did I not accomplish my task to your satisfaction?"

"No, no…" Azulon said with a distracted wave of the hand, "You did… adequately."

"Thank you, Firelord Azulon, I am glad you approve."

The Firelord wrinkled his already worn forehead, "I never said I approved."

Ozai's smile never wavered, "And why would that be, Father?"

The old man didn't say anything. Just scowled down at his son and wondered just how on earth he was still alive.

Ozai on the other hand felt the corner of his cheek rise into a smirk as he watched his father dumbly stare at him, "Father?" He asked, "Father, are you all right?"

"Don't rush me! Petulant boy!" The Firelord shouted suddenly, the flames around him leaping up till they nearly shot through the roof, "I am perfectly fine! Don't treat me like a senile old man!"

Ozai nodded, his smile unflinching, "Of course, Father."

Azulon lapsed back into a brooding silence as he glared down at his son. The prince, when he first arrived, looked like a monster from the depths of hell. Ash, brimstone and soot nearly ingrained into his skin and the awful toll the journey from the southern Arctic back to the Capital had made the royal son completely unrecognizable. But the Firelord knew his son, even if it was only his second one and he had no choice but to properly return the boy to the palace.

At first he had thought that Ozai, being the conniving coward he was had fled after he had failed, but after the reports from scouts in the south came in, he realized that the idiot boy had succeeded. Word would reach the people quickly enough, the South Pole had lost its main point of defense at the hands of the second prince all by himself. He couldn't hurt him now, not with the people whispering behind his back. So he had no choice but to welcome his son with open arms.

He just wished the boy wasn't so smug about it. "You've…" Azulon grimaced as if every word he spoke was physically painful, "You've done well. I am satisfied. As is your debt."

"Splendid and I hope you remember what you said you'd do if I managed to return from the South Pole."

The Firelord glared, "What?"

"If you recall, Father, only a few weeks ago, you said that if I returned from the South Pole you'd make me your successor." Ozai's smile, which had only been polite before was now brimming with glee, but he kept it controlled. It was only his eyes that gave him away, it was his eyes that told his father that this was the moment the prince had been waiting for.

The old man sneered at the thought of it, "I recall."

"Then I shall go inform my wife immediately that we are-"

"No." Azulon stood up cutting in, his eyes locked onto his son's smirking face as he spoke, "No, I recall that I said 'maybe,' not that you would become my successor for certain."

Ozai's face turned sour and Azulon saw the young prince's eyes fill with hate, "I suppose so, Father." He blinked and his smile returned, but it was icy and his eyes gave way to his true feelings. "I nearly forgot, thank you for reminding me."

"It was my pleasure." Azulon gave a faint smirk of his own, but it was faint in comparison and he sank back into his seat as he waved the prince away, "Go, spend some time with your family. When I need you, I shall call for you."

Ozai nodded, stood up and made for the door, his expression neutral.

"Wait!" Azulon called out, his voice suddenly focused.

The prince looked back at his father over his shoulder. A disrespectful act by anyone's standards, but the Firelord ignored that for now.

"How did you destroy that fort?"

Then Ozai bared his teeth and grinned, "Why I only did what you ordered me to, Father."

_AN: Forgot to add this last little part. Expect the rest of the family to show up in the next chapter.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

Five Years Later

"Zuzu! Zuzu!" A small girl walked awkwardly across the garden, shouting unhappily, "Zuzu, wait up!"

A seven year-old boy hung from a tree branch, smiling down on his sister, "C'mon Azula, it's easy."

The girl tried for a moment, reaching up for the closest branch, but only managing to scrape the bark from under it. She tried a few more times, hopping to grasp it until she slipped and landed on her bottom, "No fair!" She cried out, screwing her eyes shut and wailing loudly.

"Shut up, Azula!" Zuko hissed suddenly and he dropped down from the tree, his eyes darting around the palace garden, "I don't want mom to find out we were…"

"Zuko!"

The young prince groaned, glaring at his sister from the corner of his eye as his mother shuffled across the garden. "Zuko, what on earth are you doing to your sister?"

He looked down at the floor, "Nothing, mom."

"Don't lie to me." Ursa scowled and took her son's hand, dragging him inside the palace, but not before he glared at his sister one more time.

"Now," Ursa dropped Zuko into a chair and stood above him, her voice menacing, "Don't lie to me. What were you doing?"

"Climbing the tree…" Zuko mumbled, his eyes cast downwards again.

"And what have I told you about climbing trees at such a young age?"

"Not to…"

Ursa frowned, "That's exactly right, you could hurt yourself, maybe even snap your neck and-"

"Ursa," A deeper voice came through and Zuko looked up brightly, "Don't be so oppressive to the child. He was only having some fun." Ozai glanced at his son for a moment, eagerly watching him before looking back to his wife, his expression as neutral as ever, "He'll never grow up to be anything if you're always doting over him."

Zuko stood up from his seat, smiling smugly at his mother, "Yeah, that's-"

"Don't talk while the grown-ups are talking, Zuko." Ozai spoke, not even looking down and he smiled at his wife who unlike him, was frowning, "I'm not saying you can't be strict with them Ursa, just ease back a bit on the number of rules."

She stared at him, every motherly instinct inside of her telling her to scream at him and shout that he didn't need to tell _her_ how to handle _her_ children. But Ursa hadn't come so far in Royal life as to let her emotions get the best of her, so she only frowned a bit more, but reluctantly nodded.

Ozai gave her a small smile, "Good, now let's all-"

A sudden roar swallowed his words in a sound resembling water crashing against a rocky cliff. It only took Ozai and Ursa a moment to recognize it.

"Azula!" Ursa leapt out of the living room, the door practically blown off its hinges as she sprinted across the garden where the tree Zuko had been climbing on had strangely burst into flames. Azula was right beside it, staring haphazardly dazed as the flames turned the old tree into ash. She didn't stare long, Ursa snatched the tiny girl into her arms and dashed away, not leaving a moment to spare in rescuing her daughter.

There was a sudden _pop_ and the noise dissipated instantly as Ozai crushed the flames with a wave of his hand. He had moved just as swiftly as his wife, but while she was fraught with worry, he strode forward with clear, calm purpose. Now he turned to look at Ursa, still holding Azula so tightly the girl was turning red.

"Ursa, put her down." Ozai said, approaching his wife now in an easy stride. "It's fine now."

"I…" the caring mother swallowed and blushed, "I know that." She released Azula slowly, peeling back her arms carefully, her eyes never leaving her child.

"Azula. Walk with me." Ozai said plainly, already beginning to leave, forcing the little girl to run to catch up.

Neither of them said anything, they simply walked forward until Ursa and Zuko disappeared from sight.

Then the austere prince glanced down at his daughter, jogging to keep up with his brisk pace so he slowed down and spoke softly, "Are you hurt?"

Azula shook her head.

"Good." Ozai looked up again, his eyes trained ahead of him as he continued, "Now tell me what happened."

"Um I…" Azula fidgeted slightly, but her father couldn't see her discomfort so she shrugged it off and started again, "I was trying to climb the tree."

"And?"

"It started burning."

The prince paused, frowning, "What did you do, Azula?"

The young girl squirmed again, "Nothing," she mumbled.

"Are you lying to me?"

"No."

Ozai turned to look at his daughter and she shriveled under his stare. She was just barely six and still Ozai didn't spare her in the least as he scrutinized her carefully, observing her every breath and fidget. But before she shrank into nonexistence, he looked away, satisfied and spoke again, "Tell me what happened. Exactly."

She hesitated for a moment, the girl teetering on her toes for a minute, not wanting to tell him the truth, but knowing what would happen if he found out, "After Zuko and mom left… I tried to climb the tree again. But I couldn't. It was too hard and I got really mad. And then the tree…" Azula trailed off, her eyes cast down to the floor, already expecting the roaring shout she knew would come.

But the terse, cold voice that could chill blood never came and tentatively, the tiny little princess looked up at her father.

He was smiling, "I think, Azula, it's time we sent you to school."

Ozai was happy yes, the thought of his daughter already capable of firebending to the extent where she could light an entire tree overjoyed him, filled him with a sense of proud glee he couldn't have ever imagined before. It was obvious now that the girl had potential for a great many things and she was royalty, there was now virtually nowhere she couldn't go. It was a sign of things to come, a sign of the things she'd do, Ozai was sure of it.

But no child that age had the right to wield such fearsome powers. If she could make a fire so big and loud in only an instant than how far would she come in just a few years? Ozai frowned, it would complicate things greatly because any false move she might make, Ozai would be blamed in her place. He would have to get her a tutor immediately or teach her himself, but it was imperative she learned discipline, how to control the fiery might she now wielded at such a tender age.

She was a prodigy, he could see that already and he was immensely proud, but one careless childish temper tantrum and their entire family's status would be ruined. She couldn't know any of that though, he could only urge her to take lessons, tell her she would do incredible things in the future if only she controlled herself. But even as he smiled and spoke and even as she laughed and grinned with delight at her sudden abilities and her father's approval, he silently contemplated how he could mold her into the calm, level-headed warrior he would need her to be. Anything else and it'd only take a flicker of emotion before someone died a painful, fiery death.


	11. Chapter 11

"Tell me once again," the imposing prince paced the front of a classroom, a small extension of the palace, reserved for the uses of the royal family whatever they may be. Despite that, nobody ever really used it, it was more of a formality than anything these days, but today it had visitors. "What is it that makes the Fire Nation strong?"

The desks were bolted to the floor in perfect five by five rows, but only one of them had anyone in it. A small girl, barely out of infancy, her legs dangling out of her chair as she raised her hand despite the fact that there was no one else there.

Ozai nodded at her, emotionless.

The girl looked back at him, her tone never wavering and not bothered in the least by childish pronunciations or stutters as she listed – almost chanting – the reasons, "The Fire Nation is strong because even though its people are passionate and determined, our people know that obedience, loyalty and strength in unity is the only manner in which to claim victory."

"What else?"

"The Fire Nation is the land of ingenuity and innovation. While the Earth Kingdom struggles to control its vast and dispersed culture, the Fire Nation gathers itself and focuses its efforts in smooth efficiency. While the Water Tribe relies on snow and ice alone to create their homes, the Fire Nation creates materials entirely new to this world. While the Air Nomads isolate themselves off, the Fire Nation seeks to expand its horizons."

"Good," Ozai smiled briefly, his eyes still carefully on his daughter, "Very good. Now tell me what does the Fire nation require of its soldiers?"

"Strength and discipline."

She was intelligent, it was obvious to Ozai. She learned her lessons feverously and memorized all the Fire Nation principles with the utmost care. It was expected of all youth to have an intense interest of their Nation, but Azula seemed enamored with every detail of their country and she had the mind to grasp it in its entirety. She sat in rapt attention in every private lesson Ozai gave her and at the end she always succeeded in reciting nearly exactly what he said.

But that wasn't enough. Azula was royalty, not some autonomous soldier meant to be thrown uncaringly into the battlefront. This teaching method had its uses, but for the Ozai's – and Azula's – needs, it wouldn't suffice.

"Very good, Azula. You've exceeded my expectations." Ozai said calmly, "In fact, you've done well enough that these lessons can no longer apply to you. It is time we deviate from the standard and begin my own variation of the Fire Nation education program." He tilted his head down and peered at her, "Are you prepared for that?"

The girl looked up at him eagerly, but she managed to keep her face expressionless, "Yes, Father."

"Good." Ozai smiled, "I'll begin then, by asking you a simple question which you will answer to the best of your ability."

Azula nodded vigorously

"What must _you_ be in order to win?"

"At what?" Azula asked, cocking her head.

"At anything, it doesn't matter." Ozai replied as unperturbed as ever.

The little girl, five years-old, her age showing more than ever as she bit her lip and stared down at her desk.

Finally she looked up, "Obedience, loyalty, strength and discipline?"

"For a Nation of people, yes, but for you?" The prince shook his head, "No. Something much more simple and much more difficult to obtain."

"What?"

"Perfection and ruthlessness." Ozai smiled at his daughter's confused face, "The simplest way to achieve victory is to be perfect. To have the perfect amount of training, strength, discipline, speed, not only physical things, but also intelligence. You must exceed in everything there can possibly be and if you can outdo anyone else in the world, then you can readily claim victory. Second is ruthlessness, there is no point to being perfect if you don't have the will to use it. Find a way, anyway you possibly can to achieve victory and if it is the best possibly way, take it. Without a single moments hesitation, take any chance you can get to victory."

Azula stared at her father, wide-eyed, silent for a moment before slowly – and nervously – asking, "How do I know when I've won?"

That stopped Ozai for a moment. He hadn't expected her to take it all in so suddenly, but it _was_ a valid question, so he had no choice to answer. He thought quietly to himself and then slowly answered, "When you have no one else to beat."


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Excuse the tardiness, I've been busy._

Iroh opened his arms as he crossed the garden as if he was expecting Ozai to embrace him. He didn't.

"Ozai, my favorite brother! I feel like I haven't seen you in years!"

It would have been a touching reunion with the blooming flowers and twittering birds, but the prince wasn't in the mood. "I'm your only brother and it _has_ been years."

Iroh's arms dropped just as his smile did, "It was a joke."

"It wasn't very funny."

The older sibling sighed and stepped next to his younger, taller and considerably leaner brother, "I forgot how cold you can be."

"That's understandable," Ozai turned and began walking away, "Since you've been gone fighting the war while I'm stuck here with Azulon watching me like a hawk."

"I heard about your victory in the South Pole," Iroh said, moving up to match his brother's pace, "I've heard some interesting rumors too, but you'll have to tell me what _actually_ happened there."

Ozai scowled, "That was five years ago and Azulon only sent me because he expected me to die."

"So that rumor was true, too…" It was a statement, not a question and Iroh looked at his brother solemnly, "But you succeeded, why wouldn't he want to send you to the war front?"

"He's paranoid," the prince frowned, "I suppose, he thinks that I'll take a hold of his armies and cause a civil war."

"Would you?"

"No."

Iroh chuckled, "I'm not so sure, you always seemed to be planning something."

His younger brother gave him a glare, but Iroh only grinned back.

"So how's Ursa, Zuko and Azula doing?"

Ozai broke off his stare, scowling at the flower bed in front of him, "Fine. How's Lu-ten?"

"I can't say for certain, but from what he's told me in his letters," Iroh beamed, "He's quite the capable commander."

"I see."

This time it was Iroh who stared down his brother, "Don't be so distant Ozai, what's been happening here at home?"

He sighed, "Azula's begun learning how to firebend."

"What? Isn't she only five?"

"Yes."

"She's already creating fire?"

Ozai let himself smile a bit, "Yes and not just a little."

Iroh returned his brother's smile with a grin of his own, "Maybe she's a prodigy!"

"It's a definite possibility."

"What about Zuko?"

"What about him?"

"Has he started learning how to firebend?

"Oh, no, he hasn't."

There was a moment of terse silence as Iroh eyed his younger brother. He opened his mouth several times, but each time he quickly shut it and shook his head. Ozai pretended not to notice, but Iroh himself could see his younger brother's patience wearing thin, so he paused for a second longer and began, "Ozai, I think I know what you're doing to Zuko and why." He swallowed, carefully considering his words, "And as your brother, I can't let you continue on like this, it just wouldn't be best."

Ozai hadn't shown the slightest sign of even noticing his brother had finally spoken, but even though they had been separated for years, Iroh could still tell just how furious his brother really was. Even though Ozai carried on, walking through the garden at the same steady pace, every step seemed to carry more weight, every movement seemed more forceful. And in calm, low tone, the young prince spoke, "I respect your opinion, Iroh. You have always been there for me when I have needed you the most, you have always acted as how a true brother should. I value your opinions and judgments, you are a capable strategist and stunning patriot, even if you weren't my brother, you would have my respect." Ozai turned to look at his brother, but his expression was nothing like the peaceful tone of his voice, "However, Iroh, I must warn you, if you _ever_ try to lecture me about how I should treat _my_ son, I will not hesitate to settle this in Agni Kai."

"So you won't listen to me?"

"No," Ozai turned away, staring forward, "I won't."

"Good morning, Ursa."

The woman looked up from her flowers, a watering pot still in her hands and she smiled, "Iroh! It's so nice to see you."

"Seems so long, doesn't it?" Iroh walked forward, holding his gut with one hand and stroking his beard with the other, "Yet, I still seem to remember with perfect clarity how you were when you first had Azula." He laughed, "I hope you won't mind me saying, but you seemed so stressed back then... but now… you seem so relaxed."

She smiled, "It helps when your children grow up a bit."

"They're still so young, though."

"And becoming independent so fast."

"Azula's still only five isn't she?"

Ursa laughed, "Sometimes I wonder, she spends more time training than she does with me. People wonder if she's the older sister and Zuko's the younger brother."

"She trains?"

"Well," Ursa frowned slightly, "Yes, every day, especially after her father's lessons." She paused, "Didn't he already tell you that?"

"Yes, that she was learning," Iroh said uncertainly, "But not that she was training daily and that he was giving her private courses."

"Well, I found it strange myself, but she honestly seems to have a passion for it all."

"At five years old?"

She smiled faintly, "Odd, isn't it?"

The older prince matched her smile, "What lessons is she learning? 

"I'm not sure, actually. Ozai never would say."

"It's not like it's a secret, right?"

"I don't know sometimes," Ursa looked down, the familiar wrinkle lines spreading across her forehead again, "Azula wouldn't even answer me when I ask what she learned today."

"That_ is_ odd."

Ursa looked up at Iroh and gave him a strained smile, "Welcome home."

"Viciousness, like ruthlessness, is a quality you must have in order to always succeed." Ozai looked down carefully at his daughter, studying her reaction as he continued on, "However viciousness is not simply the determination to achieve victory, but the will to secure victory in the future through present action. In other words, in a confrontation, you must be vicious in battle to ensure that your enemy may never be able to fully recover or simply be defeated permanently. It goes beyond defeating your enemies, it is the act of crushing them until there is absolutely no sign of resistance and no chance of a threat ever again. Never hesitate to win permanently."

Azula only nodded, "I understand, father."

The young prince smiled, "Good."


	13. Chapter 13

The majority of the palace was taken up by its expansive garden, but even so it was an unmistakable landmark of giant proportions. The building itself was huge and the many connected ones were almost as big. In the end, though, the entire palace was just for show. Most of the rooms were never used, some you could go into and although it would be periodically cleaned, it would serve no other purpose than storage. There was a small towns-worth of a population of guards, maids, cooks and servants, but compared to the sheer size of the palace it could never really match it.

It would also go without saying that the Royal family would never be large enough to actually have the palace be a worthwhile use of space.

They were, however, the ones to always make the most commotion.

Although typically for them, bedtime was strictly off-limits. Ursa however, ignored that little rule as the pair of them settled into bed and she abruptly spoke, "Ozai, I want to know what you've been teaching Azula."

"We've discussed this, Ursa." Ozai said nonchalantly, not bothering to look at his wife as he settled deeper in bed. "That's a private matter."

Her eyes hardened instantly and her voice came out cold as she spoke, "No, it's not."

The prince looked up at her, his expression controlled, but his eyes so obviously wide, "Ursa, you can trust me, it's nothing for you worry about."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem if you tell me."

There was a moment of silence as Ozai closed his eyes, carefully choosing his words. Ursa, despite her stubborn determination didn't push him, he would come out and say it, now she just had to wait and see just how he would say it.

Finally, he opened his eyes and sighed, "You understand what Azula is. You know what she's capable of, now. Firebending, at the age of five. It's the sign of a prodigy and I have no doubt in my mind she will go far in her life. But how can a child – only five years old – hope to not just create fire, but control it? No child can be that strong, prodigy or not.

"That's what I'm teaching her, Ursa. Discipline, control, willpower. And most importantly, an actual desire to be disciplined, controlled and strong. I can say whatever I want, tell her all the dangers of fire and how it can consume, burn and kill without a master's careful watch. But she's only a child, she would never listen completely or she would never follow it rigidly. She lacks the discipline necessary to keep herself safe from her own powers and I can't just tell her she needs discipline and she should train herself accordingly. No, I have to make her _want_ to be strong so that she can accomplish all this by herself.

"I had never really intended to hide this from you, Ursa. But I didn't want to burden you with another aspect of raising a child. This is something _I_ want to handle, this will be _my_ job as a father. Can you understand that?"

And the princess had no answer to that. She never could tell when he was being sincere or when he was lying. She had always hated that about him. But then again, Ozai did pay so much more attention to Azula than he did to Zuko, not just in their lessons, but everywhere at anytime. Ursa couldn't doubt his love for their daughter, so she just sighed and sank into bed and said, "Good night, Ozai."

"Good night."

"Father?"

"What?"

Zuko fidgeted in his chair, peaking up at his father from the dining table. It was a rare moment where they were alone together. Azula had been whisked away for formal firebending lessons and Ursa claiming that this was "her job" had taken her there. Ever since Ozai had come back five years ago, though, they had always made it a point to eat together. Now, however, they were split and the table was oddly vacant. The surface wasn't though, the servants always outdid themselves and Ozai saw no reason to waste their efforts while Zuko only eyed his father anxiously.

"I think I'm ready to start learning how to firebend."

"Do you?" Ozai said, speaking between bites.

"Yes, father, I'm already seven and as prince, I must set an example of education to the rest of the nation."

The austere prince stopped chewing as he considered his son, "And you say this with only the noblest intentions?"

"I do, father."

Ozai glanced at his son, "Then I suppose it is about time you had your lessons." He looked back down at his food and resumed dinner, "You'll start next week and go with your sister to the instructor."

Zuko immediately broke into a grin, "Thank you, father!"

"I never had any problem with it, it's a simple matter."

The small boy was almost beaming now, "Of course! And when should I expect our private lessons to start?"

"Our what?"

"The private lessons. Between you and me."

"Why would you think we'd have that?" The prince was staring at his son now, dinner forgotten.

"I… I'm not?" Zuko stuttered, trying his best not to squirm under his father's gaze.

"No, you're not."

"But aren't you giving Azula private lessons?"

"Are you Azula?" Ozai pressed on, never blinking.

Zuko quickly averted his eyes, looking down at the floor as he spoke, "No."

"Then I see no reason as to why I would or should give you private lessons."

"Yes, father." Zuko muttered, still staring at the ground.

"Good." Ozai turned away from his son and picked up his chopsticks again, "Now finish your food."

"Yes, father."


End file.
